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Within the Haram's secret chamber sate
Stern Seyd, still pondering o'er his Captive's fate;
His thoughts on love and hate alternate dwell,1300
Now with Gulnare, and now in Conrad's cell;
Here at his feet the lovely slave reclined
Surveys his brow—would soothe his gloom of mind,
While many an anxious glance her large dark eye
Sends in its idle search for sympathy,His only bends in seeming o'er his beads,15
But inly views his victim as he bleeds.

"Pacha! the day is thine; and on thy crest
"Sits Triumph—Conrad taken—fall'n the rest!
"His doom is fix'd—he dies—and well his fate1310
"Was earn'd—yet much too worthless for thy hate:
"Methinks—a short release, for ransom told
"With all his treasure, not unwisely sold;
"Report speaks largely of his pirate-hoard—
"Would that of this my Pacha were the Lord!